Close to the Bone

ceiling. She raised her head and frowned at him. Then sat up. ‘Well, well.’ A smile. ‘You going to give me a seeing- to with the rubber hoses now? ’

‘It was you.’

She stood and padded her way across to the door. ‘Of course, we could start with some light spanking, if you’re not ready for the heavy stuff yet.’

‘Agnes Garfield didn’t necklace Roy Forman, you did.’

‘Little old me? ’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘Now that would deserve a sound thrashing. That’s what you Brits call it, right? ’

‘You were there on Friday, with Nichole Fyfe, when he went missing. What did you do: slip him a bottle of supermarket whisky so he’d go with you? So you’d know how it felt to do that to someone? ’

A laugh. ‘Seriously? ’

‘This is a joke to you? ’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Better believe my art is not a joke.’

‘You burned a man to death so you could play a part in a film.’

Morgan took a step back from the door. ‘I didn’t do anything of the kind. I didn’t hurt anyone. Yes, I was at the soup kitchen, but I was with Nichole the whole time, helping the homeless. And you can’t prove a damn thing.’

‘Oh believe me, we’ll-’

‘I did three seasons on CSI New Orleans, do you really think I wouldn’t know how to clean a crime scene? ’ A little shrug, then the smile was back. ‘You know, if I’d done this terrible thing.’

He stared at her.

‘You’ve got nothing, Inspector. If you had something: you’d be charging me.’ She spun around on one foot, as if she was on a dance floor. Then settled back onto the mattress, one knee up, an arm behind her head. ‘Now, be a good cop and take a hike. I’ve got atmosphere to soak up.’

51

Insch paced up and down outside FHQ in the rain, grumbling into a mobile phone, an umbrella thrumming over his shiny bald head.

Logan turned up his collar and hurried out through the automatic doors from reception, hopping his way between the puddles. He stopped just short of Insch. ‘You knew, didn’t you.’ It wasn’t a question.

Insch curled his lip, the sagging skin on his neck stretching like a tortoise. ‘I’ll call you back.’ He stuck the phone in his pocket. ‘So you finally deign to speak to me.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything? ’

‘You’ll be happy to know, I’ve been speaking to Ma Stewart. We’re making her the authorized supplier for authentic Witchfire merchandise. It’s high quality, it’s locally produced, and it helps support Aberdeen’s elderly community.’

‘Morgan Mitchell.’

‘I have. . spoken with the person she’s alleged to have assaulted. Turns out it was all a misunderstanding. He slipped and fell. Banged his head. And when she helped him up, he confused the order of events. He’s apologized and withdrawn the charges.’

Logan stared at him. ‘What about Roy Forman? ’

Insch dug a bag of carrot sticks from his pocket and stuffed one into his mouth, crunching and frowning at the same time. ‘The Hardgate Hobo? What about him? ’

‘She killed him. She lured him away with a bottle of booze, drove him out to the middle of nowhere, and burned him. All for your bloody film!’

‘Don’t be an idiot. The gentleman she allegedly assaulted has dropped the charges. Now let her get back to work.’

Back to work. .?

Logan jabbed a finger in Insch’s chest. ‘You knew!’

‘I have no idea what-’

‘Don’t, OK? Just. .’ He marched away half a dozen paces, then back again. ‘Roy Forman died, screaming in agony.’

The only sound was the rain, making drum-rolls on Insch’s umbrella. ‘Morgan Mitchell — didn’t — kill — anyone.’

‘She was there the night he was abducted. She says she was with Nichole Fyfe, but what do you want to bet Nichole was so stoned you could’ve paraded half the circus up and down in front of her and she wouldn’t have noticed? ’

Insch’s face was growing darker, the muscles along his jaw rippling. ‘And I’m telling you-’

‘All that bollocks about “You can’t just turn up and drone out your lines, you’ve got to inhabit the part. You’ve got to live it.” She killed Roy Forman just so she’d know what it felt like.’

He clenched his eyes shut, two trembling fingers pressed against the folds of skin at his neck — taking his pulse. A thick vein throbbed on his forehead. ‘Morgan wouldn’t-’

‘You said it yourself.’ Logan poked him in the chest. ‘She’s a method-acting nutjob. She thinks this performance is going to catapult her to superstar-’

‘NO!’ Spittle flew from Insch’s mouth, accompanied by little flecks of chewed carrot. ‘MORGAN MITCHELL DIDN’T KILL ANYONE!’

Logan took a step back. ‘She did it, and she thinks we can’t touch her.’

‘She. .’ Air hissed in and out of his nose, like a broken bellows. ‘I’ve sunk everything I’ve got into this bloody film. We can’t afford to go back and reshoot every single scene Mrs Shepherd-’

‘What the hell happened to you? ’ Logan turned on his heel and marched back towards the station. ‘You used to be a police officer.’

‘Look, Inspector McRae, if you’re just going to sit there and scowl at my client, I don’t see any point in continuing this interview.’ Anthony Chung’s lawyer gathered together his paperwork.

‘Maybe if your client said something other than “no comment”, Mr Blake, we’d actually get somewhere.’

Sitting on the other side of the table, Anthony Chung just smiled at him.

Fine.

‘Constable Buchan: do the honours.’

‘Interview suspended at ten fifty-two.’ She reached forward and switched the audio and video off.

Blake stood, but his client stayed where he was.

Anthony’s American accent was beginning to fray around the edges, a hint of Scottish creeping in. ‘You go. I want to have a word, with The Man. Off the record.’

‘I have to advise you not to say anything to the inspector-’

‘I’m cool.’ The smile became a grin. ‘They know I didn’t kill anyone.’

‘Don’t tell him anything.’ The lawyer pointed a chewed finger at Logan. ‘If I even think you’ve tried to coerce my client, I’ll have you suspended quicker than you can say “misconduct”.’

‘Constable Buchan, escort Mr Blake to the canteen. And make sure he doesn’t steal any spoons.’

As soon as the door closed again, Anthony sat forward in his seat. ‘Is she OK? Rowan? ’

‘Bit late to worry about that now, isn’t it? After what you made her do? ’

‘She was so. . happy, yeah? All these years her mom’s treated her like she’s a little kid or something: telling her where she can go, who she can speak to, who she can love.’ Anthony shook his head. ‘You know she slit her wrists when the old bitch said she couldn’t see me any more? The pills weren’t working, she was miserable the whole time. So yeah: I made her happy.’

‘Is there a point to this, Anthony? Or are you just showing off as usual.’